A UK city has been hailed as home to ‘one of the world’s most scenic winter train journeys’
The holiday season may be the best time to ride the rails
A city in the UK has been hailed as the backdrop for “one of the world’s most scenic winter train journeys“. National Geographic experts have lauded the route as “breathtaking,” promising travellers an eyeful of unforgettable vistas. In their roundup of Europe’s top 10, they said: “The holiday season may be the best time to ride the rails on these iconic routes through Germany’s enchanted Black Forest, and Norway’s frozen waterfalls.”
But it’s Scotland that truly steals the show with its mist-shrouded hills, serpentine lochs, and stark winter landscapes. For those hunting for a festive or winter escape, this rail journey delivers an unrivalled experience.
So, where in Scotland can you find this picturesque railway journey?
Stretching around 180 miles from Glasgow to Mallaig via Fort William, the West Highland Line is your ticket to awe-inspiring scenery.
As the National Geographic expert elaborated: “Route: Glasgow to Mallaig. Often cited as one of the world’s most scenic rail journeys, the West Highland Line serves up raw, haunting beauty.
“It slices through Rannoch Moor, a sprawling peat bog, skirts Loch Lomond, and soars over the Glenfinnan Viaduct, (a spectacle long before the Hogwarts Express catapulted it to Hollywood fame).”
They added: ” Edinburgh and Glasgow both boast unique Christmas festivities worth checking out. Edinburgh’s markets spill across Princes Street Gardens under the watchful eye of the castle, while Glasgow is set to light up with a Christmas lights trail this year.”
Glasgow’s Christmas market
The Winter Wonderland Christmas market at St Enoch Square is set to run from 6 November to 24 December, boasting family rides, an ice rink, local vendors, and live music. As reported by Secret Glasgow, the event will feature the world’s first solar-powered observation wheel and a fully licensed festive bar.
Glasgow is also set to host its largest beer hall yet, accommodating up to 700 guests with pub quizzes, live music, and festive beverages on offer. The venue will be adorned with fairy lights and fire pits, serving mulled wine and winter cocktails in both indoor and outdoor spaces.
In lieu of the traditional Christmas Lights Switch-On, which has been cancelled due to redevelopment works at George Square, the city will instead showcase a festive light trail.
Key attractions include dazzling art installations along Sauchiehall, Buchanan, and Argyle Streets, as well as a grand Christmas tree and crib at the Cathedral Precinct, providing a perfect backdrop for festive photos.
Top 10 scenic train routes in Europe, according to National Geographic
The heritage steam railway trundles through pretty seaside villages and along stunning North Norfolk coastline
The North Norfolk Poppy Line is a wonderful experience(Image: Getty)
A stunning train route has been crowned England’s “most scenic” after travellers discovered it winds through charming seaside villages and breathtaking landscapes. Better still, the heritage steam railway itself is rich in history as it chugs along picturesque old tracks.
The Poppy Line, running between Sheringham and Holt in North Norfolk, meanders for 5.25 miles (8.45km) across the region’s flat countryside. East Anglia’s self-proclaimed “premier heritage railway” is run almost entirely by volunteers, lending the entire journey a welcoming atmosphere.
Yet it’s far from amateur – first class carriages provide dining experiences where passengers can tuck into delicious meals and enjoy exquisite bottles of wine.
Options range from a Comedy Dining Experience to various gourmet services, a Murder Mystery Dining experience – and even a Gin Train for those seeking a more relaxed affair.
Passengers board at Sheringham, a classic Victorian seaside town where fishing remains a thriving trade and shops stock an array of local goods. The town boasts an expansive beach with golden sands – ideal for a winter ramble whilst the train prepares for departure.
For those wanting a lengthier excursion, continue along the coast atop the gently rising cliffs to take in the diverse mix of wildflowers, butterflies and sweeping vistas of the North Sea.
From this point, the train chugs along for a few miles to the quintessentially English village of Weybourne, reports the Express.
Here you can also bask in the stunning coastal views, or perhaps pop over to the Muckleburgh Military Collection, the UK’s largest privately owned military museum, boasting over 120 tanks, guns and vehicles among its collection of 10,000 items.
Once you’ve had your fill of military history, meander over to one of the traditional British pubs where you can tuck into fish and chips, or locally sourced seafood or other produce. Notable establishments include The Ship Inn and The Red Lion.
Afterwards, hop back on the train and you’ll be whisked off to Kelling Heath Park, which is just a brief stop. From here you can embark on hikes around Kelling Heath, a 221-hectare Site of Special Scientific Interest.
Following this, Holt is the final stop, where you’ll alight to discover a treasure trove of 18th-Century Georgian buildings, with charming antique and book shops tucked away in the many hidden courtyards and alleyways. Don’t miss the cross in the marketplace that commemorates soldiers who fell in the war.
Just a stone’s throw away is Holt Country Park – a 100-acre woodland filled with oak, pine and silver birch trees. The ruins of Baconsthorpe Castle are also well worth a visit.
This moated and fortified manor house dates back to the 15th century and is teeming with intriguing history.
Dublin, Ireland – When I was accepted to Trinity College Dublin, I imagined a fresh start, new lectures, late-night study sessions and a campus alive with possibility.
The plan was clear: begin my studies in September 2024 and finally step into the future I had worked so hard for.
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But when September came, the borders of Gaza were shut tight, my neighbourhood was being bombed almost every day, and the dream of university collapsed with the buildings around me. Trinity sent me a deferral letter, and I remember holding it in my hands and feeling torn in two.
I didn’t know whether to feel relieved or heartbroken. That letter became a strange symbol of hope, a reminder that maybe, someday, my life could continue. But everything else was falling apart so quickly that it was hard to believe in anything.
My family and I were displaced five times as the war intensified. Each time, we left something behind: books, clothes, memories, safety.
After the first temporary truce, we went home for a short time. But it no longer felt like the place we had built our lives. The walls were cracked, windows shattered, and floors coated in dust and debris.
It felt haunted by what had happened.
I knew I had to go
I’m the middle child among three siblings. My older sister, Razan, is 25, and my younger brother, Fadel, is 23.
You might think being a middle child spares you, but during the war, I felt responsible for them. On nights when bombings shook the building and fear crept into every corner, I tried to be the steady one. I tried to comfort them as I trembled inside.
Then, in April 2025, my name appeared on a small, restricted list of people allowed to leave Gaza. About 130 people could cross at that time, dual-nationality holders, family reunification cases and a handful of others. My name on that list felt unreal.
The morning I approached the crossing, I remember the long, tense line of people waiting, gripping documents, holding bags, clutching their children’s hands. No one talked.
When two IDF officers questioned me, I answered as steadily as I could, afraid that something, anything, might go wrong and they’d send me back.
When they finally waved me through, I felt relief and guilt at the same time.
I didn’t call home until I got to Jordan. When my mother heard my voice, she cried. I did, too. I told her I was safe, but it felt like I had left a part of my heart behind with them.
Alagha had to leave her mobile phone behind in Gaza; this is one of the few photos she still has, of her mother embracing her on her graduation day in Gaza [Courtesy of Rawand Alagha]
My family is now in Khan Younis, still living through the chaos.
I arrived in Amman on April 18, my heart heavy with the weight of what I had escaped. The next morning, I boarded a flight to Istanbul, with nothing around me feeling real.
The sounds of normalcy, laughter, announcements, and the rustle of bags were jarring after the constant bombardment. I had been living in a world where every sound could signal danger, where the air was thick with fear and uncertainty.
I felt like a ghost, wandering through a world that no longer belonged to me.
Finally, after hours of flying, waiting, being screened and watching departure boards, I landed in Dublin. The Irish air felt clean, the sky impossibly open. I should’ve been happy, but I was engulfed by crushing guilt, the joy overshadowed by the pain of separation.
I wasn’t completely alone. A Palestinian colleague from Gaza had arrived in April 2024, and two friends were also in Ireland. There was an unspoken understanding between us.
“You recognise the trauma in each other without saying a word,” I often tell people now. “It’s in the way we listen, the way we sit, the way we carry ourselves.”
Back in Gaza, my daily life had shrunk to pure survival: running, hiding, rationing water, checking who was alive. Bombings hit every day, and nighttime was the worst. Darkness makes every sound feel closer, sharper.
You don’t sleep during war. You wait.
Those nights, the silence was deafening, punctuated by the distant echoes of explosions. I would lie awake, straining to hear danger.
The darkness wrapped me like a suffocating blanket, amplifying every creak of the building, every whisper of the wind.
During the day, people on the street moved quickly, eyes darting, alert.
Water was a precious commodity; we would line up for hours at distribution points, often only to receive a fraction of what we needed. It was never enough.
No human should live like that
Five times, we fled in search of safety, packed in minutes, hearts racing with fear.
In one building where dozens of displaced families stayed, people slept on thin mattresses, shoulder to shoulder. Children cried quietly, adults whispered, trying to comfort one another, but every explosion outside sent ripples of panic through the rooms.
No human being should have to live like that, but millions of us did.
As I sit in Dublin, I carry the weight of my family’s struggles with me, a constant reminder of the life I left behind.
The guilt of survival is a heavy burden, but I hold onto hope that one day, I can return and help rebuild what has been lost.
Even now, far from Gaza, I feel it. You don’t leave war behind; you carry it with you like a second heartbeat.
A workshop at the University of Dublin welcoming the Palestinian students [Courtesy of Rawand Alagha]
Watching a world I’m not part of yet
I often stop in the campus courtyards. Not just because they’re beautiful, though they are, but because I need those moments to remind myself that I survived.
The laughter of children here feels foreign, a reminder of joy that has been stolen from so many.
Walking through Trinity College today feels surreal. Students laugh over coffee, rush to lectures and complain about assignments. Life moves so seamlessly here.
I message my family every day. Some days, they reply quickly. Other days, hours pass with no response. Those silent days feel like torture.
But I’m determined. Being here is about rebuilding a life, about honouring the people I left behind.
Survival comes with weight.
I carry the dreams of those who couldn’t leave. That responsibility shapes the way I move through the world; quieter, more grateful, more aware.
I hope someday I can bring my family to safety. I hope to finish my studies, rebuild my life and use my voice for people still trapped in war.
I want people to know what it takes to stand in that line at the border, to leave everything behind, to walk into a future alone.
Michelle Kwan’s favorite early Christmas present this year? It’s a little girl, gift-wrapped in a hospital blanket and ready to meet Santa.
The Olympian and former ambassador to Belize just welcomed her second child, Della Rose Kwan, according to a Thursday post on social media.
“My heart doubled in an instant the moment I held her in my arms, and watching my daughter walk into the hospital to meet her baby sister brought tears to my eyes,” the Torrance native wrote on Instagram, captioning a photo of her holding baby Della in the hospital, then talking about her first child, who was born in early 2021.
“I’ve always dreamt of having children, and when Kalista came into the world, I was already beyond grateful for a miracle that once felt impossible after years of trying.”
The 45-year-old is a five-time world champion, nine-time U.S. champion and two-time Olympic medalist, winning a silver and a bronze for figure skating in the 1998 and 2002 Winter Games, respectively. She was an ambassador from 2022 to 2025, during the Biden administration.
Kwan posted additional pictures showing herself and Kalista eating ice cream on the couch in matching Christmas pajamas when mom was still pregnant, an ornament on the Christmas tree holding a photo of the family of three and a short time-lapse video of herself in a black bodysuit showing her midsection growing until she finally holds baby Della in her arms.
Writing that “[g]etting here again has been its own rollercoaster,” she thanked all those who helped “this miracle” to happen. Included in her appreciation was “my love, who I’m so lucky to share my life with,” though she didn’t share that person’s identity.
Kwan was married to attorney and politician Clay Pell from 2013 to 2017.
“After more than a decade of hoping, I still can’t quite believe this moment is real,” she wrote.
“As an Olympian, I’ve pushed my body to its limits and been amazed by its strength — but carrying another life has left me in even greater awe. There were moments of frustration over how little I could control — a humbling reminder that fertility is something none of us can fully predict.”
Kwan then offered well wishes to anyone else dealing with infertility or praying to have children.
“I know what you’re going through,” she said, “and I’m hoping you feel loved and supported in every way as you navigate this journey.”
The tone of the missive is par for the course for Kwan, who explained her approach to life during her competitive years to The Times in early 2020.
“You hope that you made an impression and an imprint, a positive impact on people,” she said at the time, talking about her skating career. “I kind of expressed the journey that I was on, whether it was a good journey or an emotional journey or a sad one, I was never afraid to emote. I feel like the people who partook in that journey experienced a lot of emotional moments during those 20 years with me, and looking back, I was a part of their lives.”
Looks like she’s starting on yet another new journey now.
![A workshop at the University of Dublin welcoming the Palestinian students [Courtesy of Rawand Alagha]](https://i0.wp.com/www.aljazeera.com/wp-content/uploads/2025/12/rawand-photo-workshop-in-Dublin-1-1765692719.jpg?w=640&ssl=1)
